Page 41 of Secondhand Soul

Her towel loosens and slides to her waist.

Tight, perfect breasts. Pink cherry nipples that I thought would be darker, somehow, because of her hair.

“God,” I let out one word between kisses, and my hand goes to her chest, palming what I shouldn’t touch.

Victoria moans, and her stronger arm moves to clutch the back of my head, like she wants this.

My cock agrees. This is a definite want.

“Your neck still hurts,” I whisper.

She shrugs with one shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“We can wait.”

Wide eyes. Long lashes. Something so pretty, but her eyes are spearing me. “I don’t want to wait.”

Well, then.

Victoria twists and rises, one hand on my shoulder, the other clutching my arm at the elbow to steady herself.

Her now naked self. The towel is down on the floor, and she’s on her knees over my lap. Everything in me is screaming, and the voices aren’t in agreement.

This is it! Pull her straight down to where your dick is like an arrow waiting to find that soft pink target.

This feels wrong. Rushed.

Love. Isn’t there supposed to be love?

I want to feel like she’s mine. For keeps.

Like Manny and Rhea.

Are you crazy? Nothing in your life has been for keeps. You’re not the same people that they are. You weren’t made to prove life after death; you were made to prove that you don’t cross mobsters with demons and sorcerers on the payroll!

“It’s because of the body count, isn’t it?” Victoria’s soft, sexy whispers have changed, suddenly. Startling me.

“What?”

“Because of what I was. Who I’ve been with.” Victoria reads my hesitation all wrong. “And Pazcuso didn’t help, huh? I don’t blame you. Sleeping with a dozen criminals sounds sick to me, too, especially since I know that most of them would shoot you, no questions asked, if you messed up their money stream.”

“No. No, no.” I pull her back to me, harder than I should. She topples, and I catch her, laying her out on the bed.

Naked, damp Victoria. Under me. Against me.

“You don’t have to pretend.” She shakes her head.

“I’m not pretending!” I growl, and I shake her a little, which makes her eyes widen and mine narrow.

Don’t. Do. That.

All my arguing voices are surprisingly suddenly in agreement, and it’s a relief.

“You slept with a dozen killers? I think I’m built from a dozen killers. I’m pretty sure I have some parts from innocent victims, but I also think anyone who crossed Pazcuso ended up being harvested for parts, too. I don’t care about your past. You said you didn’t care about mine.”

“I don’t!”

“I just want this to be right. This is different for me.” I stroke her hair. I could say so much more, but I stop myself. Stroke her cheek. Kiss her again.